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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
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SUNNY NOOKS 



OR 



Halting Place Stories 




O. G. WALL 



ILLUSTRATED. 




BUFFALO 

THE PETER PAUL BOOK COMPANY 

1895 



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Copyrighted, 1895, 
By O. G. Wall. 



PRINTED AND BOUND BY 

THE PETER PAUL BOOK COMPANY, 

BUFFALO, N. Y. 



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CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Sirius, -------- 7 

These Hills and Dales, ----- 9 

The Bluebird, - - - - - - 11 

Motmt of the Holy Cross, - - - - - 1 5 

'^ North Fork;' ------ 16 

Prayer of the Aristocratic Saints, - - - 18 

WJiat is Beyond, - - - - - - 23 

Dinner in the Woods, - - - - - 24 

Salt Lake, -------26 

Amid the Thorns and the Spears, - - 28 

The Mountain Top, - - - - - 31 

Gems of the Cascade Range, _ _ . 4^ 

The Old-ti)ne Town, - - - - - 45 

A North Ainerican Autumn, _ _ - 48 
The Rose, -------49 

The Benefits of Ill-Fortune, - - - - 50 

Christmas Morn, - - - - - - 51 

Pioneer Days, -- - - - - -52 

Childhood, - - - - - - - 55 

A Tale of Uiifortunate Rustic Love, - - - 56 

The Humming-Bird, - - - - - 58 

'' Old Shady,'' 59 

An October Morning, - - - - - 61 

Jack' s Boyhood Recollections, - - - - 63 



vi. CONTENTS. 

A Feathe7-ed Minstrel, ----- yo 

Vale, Ward McAllister, - - - - - 72 

'' Cloud Effects;' . . . - . 73 

A Claim- Shanty Vision, - - - - - 75 

Evening by the River, - - - - - 77 

Broken Idols, - - - - - - "79 

The Critic, ------- 80 

Pulpit Rock, 82 

The Parson and the Stormy - - - - 84 

Thanksgiving, - - - - - -87 

The Old and the New — Hail and Farewell, - %Z 

To an Apple, - - - - - - - go 

The Passing Year, ----- p2 

A Prayer of the Soul, ----- 94 

''Blood;' - 96 

''Dud;' the Grave-Stone Peddler, - - - 08 
Where is the Sun ? - - - - - 100 

Our Drea77ied Millenniu77i, - - - - 102 

A Stor77i's Theology, - - - - - 105 

To a Returning Silver Dollar, - - - 107 

Twilight, - - - - - -109 

Wani7ig Su7nmer, - - - - - -iii 



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SIRIUS. 
HAT would we not, who on this fair earth 



Jive — 

What would we not, in worldly treasure give, 
To know the story of yon brilliant star — 
Yon orb, whose ray, like burnished silver bar, 
Cleaves the boundless heavens in its career, 
Its flaming- source our own vast sun's compeer? 
Beholding, through the endless space, its flame, 
Who dares j^uggest the limit of its fame ? — 
For that which falls to earth a feeble light, 
Its forces lost in dissipating flight. 
Paints in splendor, many a world afar. 
To which our sun, in turn, appears a star. 



THESE HILLS AND DALES. 

GO over the sea, — o'er the strand; 
Go to the fairest fairyland; 
Go where the tropics overflow 
With luscious fruits that famous grow; 
Go to the land where gold is mined, 
Where good Dame Fortune, wondrous kind, 
Rewards the honest toils of men; — 
Go to the ends of human ken, — 
Go where the skies forever smile; 
Go to the mount, or sunny isle; 
Go where the senses luxur'ate — 
Where charms o'erwhelm, intoxicate, — 
And yet the heart, that Nature fills 
With love of home, of woods and hills, 
Will turn your face with longing gaze 
To haunts of youth and winding ways, 
Among these groves and flowery glens. 
Where gracefully the river bends, 
Or over cliff, or under ledge, 
Or by the brooklet, through the sedge, 
Thrilling soul with strange emotion, 
Firing new the heart's devotion. 



lo SUNNY NOOKS. 

Until, suffused, the eye is dim. 
And tear starts coursing o' er its rim, 
And heart o'erflows in reverie, 
'Mid scenes that matched can never be. 



SUNNY NOOKS, ii 



THE BLUEBIRD. 

WHILE lingers yet the virgin snow; 
While Sol diverts his rays oblique ; 
While winds of March that, dreary, blow, 
O'er snow -fields vast and bleak; 

While cloudlets scurry 'neath the blue, 
And meadows show but patches bare. 

And sunlight wears a pallid hue. 

And sparkling frosts gleam everywhere, 

There comes from southern sunny lands, 
O'er fields and rivers, valleys, plains, 

O'er forests, meadows, moorlands, sands, 
The bluebird, with enchanting strains. 

How " bends the ear" to catch the sound, 
What change imprison' d spirits feel, 

What hope is loosened with a bound. 
When o' er our torpid senses steal. 

At rising sun, on frosty morn, 

The first sweet note, in waining March, 



12 SUNNY NOOKS. 

Of cherish' d bird on pinions borne, 
With coat as blue as heaven's arch! 

And through the golden summer days, 
When life is like a fairy dream, 

What songster's merry roundelays 
Are to the heart a sweeter theme ? 

And when the dreamy Autumn day 
Foretells the dying of the year, 

His plaintive, farewell * ' cheraway ' ' 
Resounds upon regretful ear. 




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MOUNT OF THE HOLY CROSS. 



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REAMER of ages, 
Sage among sages, 
Gem by the side of which others are dross; 
First of the mountains. 
Source of pure fountains, 
Imposing old monarch, Mount of the Cross. 



i6 SUNNY NOOKS. 



''NORTH FORK." 

ALONG a river's winding shore, 
Whose scenes are etched upon the mind, 
I stroll, as in the days of yore, 
And pleasures new I ever find. 

Wild, retired the spot e'er seemed. 

Though near it was to man's abode, — 

Near where the deafening whistle screamed, 
As whirring demon onward strode. 

I've wandered o'er this fairy scene 

When spring retouched our gelid earth, 

And when the forests all were green, 
And overflowed with Nature's mirth. 

Lulled to rest by song of bird, 

Beguiled from care by incense sweet, 

'Mid eloquence, without a word, 
I reveled in this wild retreat. 

Hepaticas I've gathered there, 

Around the old and vine-clad trees, 

Or fallen nuts in autumn fair, 

When touched by frost and stirring breeze. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 17 

How sweet the sound of tinkling bells 
Of wandering herds that graze the hills; 

What note on summer zephyr swells, 
And all the charming valley fills! 

And through the crown of walnut tree, 
Whose spicy fronds befringe the sky, 

The breezes stir in ecstacy, 

And soothe the soul with peaceful sigh. 

The river, woods and hills repeat, 
Within the heart that Nature loves, 

The stories of this dear retreat — 
This place of rest in shady groves. 



i8 SUNNY NOOKS. 



PRAYER OF THE ARISTOCRATIC SAINTS. 

AS age doth grow from callow youth, 
So pious stories grow from truth; 
Quite like effect, when traced to cause. 
That proves unerring nature's laws. 
The tide that flows must also ebb, 
And spider weaving silken web, 
Can not, without an unseen mill. 
Supply its endless needs and skill. 
The human tongue will scarce relate 
That which the heart does not create, 
And so this prayer, by mortals made, 
I give to thee just as 'twas prayed: 
O, Holy Father, source of love. 
Ruler of earth and all above; 
O, Thou, Most High, — Omnipotent, 
Whence all good things to man are sent. 
Thou Prince of princes — King of kings, 
Thou Fount from which all glory springs, 
We humbly bend the suppliant knee. 
And bow our heads in prayer to Thee, 
And beg that we (best of Thy race) 
May fall sole heirs to all Thy grace, 
And win at last seraphic wings, 
O, Lord of lords; O, King of kings. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 19 

When death shall still the human heart, 
And heav'nly drapery shall part, 
Like curtains of the night at dawn, 
That from the eastern sky are drawn, 
And all Thy glories we behold, 
The charm of which was never told, — 
When to earth returning — never, 
When o'er the threshold forever. 
We pass into Thy realm of rest. 
To be condemned or ever blessed. 
Then, O, Lord, Thou King content, 
We may in bitter tears repent, 
That holy aims did not here guide 
Our way o'er life's storm-troubled tide. 

With Thee, O, gracious, holy Lord, 
We seek a confidential word. 
But scarcely know how to suggest, 
The thing we'd like on Thee impressed; 
And still, O, Ruler of the skies, 
A "word's sufficient to the wise: " 
From nature's bent 'tis hard to swerve; 
We, Lord, were never born to serve. 
And fault we'd find at throne of grace. 
Would be at taking second place. 

O, Lord, we know Thy laws we trample; 
We know we live a bad example, 



20 SUNNY NOOKS. 

But who but Thou can be to blame, 

That erring hearts are one and same ? 

Besides, O, Lord, when we confess, 

Does not that half the wrong redress ? 

And culture, Lord of Hosts, O, King, — 

Lord, culture is another thing. 

That ought abridge a little sin 

Thy laws do not indulge us in. 

A thousand reasons, could we find, 

Why Thou, O, Lord, couldst well be blind, 

But none but those already given. 

We'll urge on Thee, thou prince of heav'n. 

But dost not Thou Thyself upbraid. 

For some things Thou ought ne' er have made ? 

For instance, Lord, why madest Thou sin ? 

Why madest Thou hell to roast us in ? 

For, Lord, if there had been no evil. 

Then, O, King, Thou'd need no devil. 

O, Lord, canst Thou not bring to bear, 
By some means, either foul or fair, 
A stroke from out Thy source unseen, 
That will, like a scimiter keen, 
Leave those who scoff us not a hair on ? 
Lord, whale them with the rod of Aaron. 
The way is plain : to lice first turn them, 
And then to dust transform and burn them.* 



*Exodus, Viii, i6 — 17. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 21 

Into their paths put thorns, not roses, 
And teach them thus the law of Moses. 

O, King of that celestial world, 
Whence Lucifer of old was hurled, 
Dispense Thou with a gen'rous hand, 
The gifts Thou hast at Thy command, 
And what we ask canst Thou not do — 
Make heav'n a refuge for the few ? 
And canst Thou help a sinful cause, 
And change a wee Thy rigid laws. 
And pass us in on what we preach, 
And overlook a secret breach ? 
To, Thee, O, Lord, we must confess, 
That faults in others (by far less 
Than those the public know are ours, ) 
We scourge with all our lingual powers. 
'Tis our way, e'en truth it smothers: 
Right in us is wrong in others. 

God, ope the way to revenue; 
And any source, O, Lord, will do. 
Gin, rum, tobacco, games of chance. 
May each our sacred wealth enhance. 

We know Thou read'st secret hearts, 
So why not frankly own our arts ? 
We serve Thee, not from love of cause, 
Nor through reverence of Thy laws, 
But in Thy holy name, O, Lord, 
We seek for pleasure, — not reward. 



22 SUNNY NOOKS. 

But in our better moments, King, 
When inmost thoughts take purer wing, 
We long to make Thy holy place, 
The home of all the human race. 
Thy pearly roads. Thy purple hills, 
Thy winding rivers, brooks and rills. 
Thy perfect forests — dreamy vales, 
Thy flowery group that e'er exhales 
An incense mortals never know, 
In their wanderings here below; 
Thy 'lysian fields, Thy land of rest, 
Thy home of homes, — of all, the best, 
Where, when our trials end on earth. 
We enter through a Christian birth, — 
All these, O, Lord, in better flights, 
All these celestial delights, — 
All these charms of holy heaven, 
We wish could be to all men giv'n. 

But now turns up ill self again. 
To scourge our thoughts to native den. 
We can not — will not yield, O, Lord, 
Acceptance of the human horde. 
Heaven should be, O, Lord, for two. 
Or at the most for very few. 

Now, Lord, we're weak — Thy race is weak, 
And when forbidden fruits we seek, 
By smouching goodies on the sly, 
Wink Thou, O, Lord, Thy holy eye. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 23 

Grant our prayer, thou gen'rous giver, 
And, Lord, have our praise forever; 
We ask it in Thy name again. 
We ask it, Lord. Amen ! Amen ! 



Less frequent God than other gods, 
Do worship hosts of pious frauds. 



WHAT IS BEYOND. 

WHAT is beyond that almost boundless sea, 
Whose wondrous shores no mortal e'er ex- 
plored ? 
What is beyond — what that eternity. 
In which departed life shall be restored ? 



24 SUNNY NOOKS. 



DINNER IN THE WOODS. 

O'ER the hills for an autumn ride, 
With love of nature only guide; 
By wealthy plains, through stately groves, 
Where fancy oft in leisure roves; 
Down graceful, peaceful, rock-bound valleys, 
Whose charm e'ery impulse rallies: 
Now some strange road — now some new way, 
All cares discarded for the day. 
An ample meal in baskets stowed, 
To be enjoyed in camp by road, 
When watchful eye found just the place, 
For eating meat and saying grace. 
In woodland deep, by sparkling brook. 
That, with many a curve and crook. 
Swept in sweet and rhythmic motion, 
To'rd the rolling, restless ocean. 
Camped we, beneath the spreading elms, 
'Mid scenes outvying fairy realms. 
Where birches, with their yellow crests, 
Betinged with gold their mid-day guests, 
Or maples, their emerald fled. 
Flecked woodland hills with fiery red. 
Here in autumn's bower of yellow. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 25 

Here in gilded shadows mellow; 
Here where the sylvan gods would stray, 
Where sparkling waters leap and play; 
Here where of scarlet ivy leaves, 
Nature a handsome fabric weaves. 
In and out with lingering green, 
Enchanting soul with matchless scene; 
Here where the thrush in summer sings — 
Here, had we repast, fit for kings. 



26 SUNNY NOOKS. 



SALT LAKE. 

AS the pond-lily, one of the sweetest, fairest and 
rarest gems of all the flowery kingdom is 
evolved from the slimy lagoon, so has God brought 
forth from the surrounding chaos of alkali desert and 
scarred and seamed wreck of mother earth, this 
charming specimen of His handiwork. At our feet a 
great lake, nearly fifty by one hundred miles in extent, 
appeals amid its surroundings, thrillingly to the soul. 
On either shore are plains from one to a few miles in 
width, as level as a lawn, and extending far beyond 
the scope of vision up and down the lake, the soil of 
which is highly cultivated, and productive of nearly 
all the cereals, vegetables and fruits, a fine variety of 
peach being among the latter. The inner rim of 
this plain terminates at the lake, while from the outer 
rim rise boldly and almost perpendicularly, mountain 
walls thousands of feet high, the uppermost pt-aks of 
which, east of and high above the city of Salt Lake, 
are clad in perpetual snow. I stand beneath an old 
peach-tree, bending with its load of luscious fruit, 
and glance upward, not far to my left, at these ever- 
lasting snow-fields, with welling inspirations I will not 
attempt to describe. The great Ruler of the universe, 



SUNNY NOOKS. 27 

who moulds our destinies and leads us through His 
labyrinth of wonders, has hardly prepared us in the 
average walks of life for a spectacle of such magnifi- 
cent extremes. 



28 SUNNY NOOKS. 



AMID THE THORNS AND THE SPEARS. 

IN the summer of years, by wayside of life, 
As a jewel 'mid stars that in heav'n are rife, 
Dwelt a flower of grace and womanly form, 
Ne'er changing with sunshine, shadow or storm. 
By wayside of life, in the summer of years, 
This flower grew, amid the thorns and the spears, 
A light elysian — a glinting sunbeam, 
Grew like a vision — a beautiful dream, 
Where a silvery rivulet flows. 
Than morning-glory it was far more fair; 
Than the sweet magnolia was still more rare. 
With cheek as blush as the bloom of the peach, 
And soul as white as the sands of the beach, 
And a heart as pure as the rose. 



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THE MOUNTAIN TOP. 

(pike's peak.) 

I. 

LIKE blazing world, the sun rose o'er the plain, 
Its fiery rays cleaving the eastern sky; 
And through the autumn haze its blood-red stain 
Tinted the rocky slopes and mountains high, 

II. 

Bidding our hearts rejoice, for prospects bright 

Now lay before us for the coming day. 
Roused from our slumbers by the breaking light, 

We took the path at six, whose devious way I 

III. 

Led up a mountain gorge, where grim old rocks, 

Piled cliff on cliff, o'erhung our winding trail, 
Their storm-swept brows befringed with matted locks 

Of flowing vines that waved like em' raid veil. 

IV. 

With heart and hope set high we bade adieu 
To Garden of the Gods and burning plains — 



32 .SU:V.VV NOOKS. 

To m neral draughts and dreamy Manitou, 

And hastened on where god of mountain reigns. 



In gay procession d d our party file. 

Like true explorers, u\) that rough and half-healed 
scar, 
In nam- a trail, — -till adding mile to mile, 

A towering, snou -capped peak our guiding star. 

VI. 

An h ur our road lay by a mountain stream, 
Tha dashed itself to f ).im by falling sheer. 

Adown a thousand fe^ t in >ilvery gleam, 

Le p by leap, now froth and foam, now bright and 
cl ar, 

VII. 

It hurried o th • sroiching plain below, 

Wh'v' e burn ng sands ibsorbed it to the lees. 

With joy we cross; d and recrossed, to and fro, 

Thiy mountain brook 'mid rocks and pigmy trees. 

VIII. 

Our senses swa ■-' am d t'lese giddy heights; 
Oar ii I cr ■ )t, spite of reassuring guides; 



SUN A Y NO i)K^. 33 

And unaccustomed to such airy fligiits. 

We clung, half breathless to the mountain sides. 

IX. 

But on the rocky slopes, at either hand, 

Were scenes to which we turned oar restless eyes — 
Now strange wild flowers, and now a cattle .^r^^nd. 

Reared by convulsive shock to kiss the skies. 

X. 

Our new-born fear at length quite wore away, 
As to these heights and depths we grew inured; 

And so each heart leaped gladly to the fray. 

And longed for wilder scenes than those endured. 

XI. 

And thus that nature-gift, the human mind, 
That feels at first a trivial sense of pain, 

Will yet to greater ills become resigned, 

And hold, what once gave terror, in disdain. 

XII. 

But to my story: Reached we level space, 

The "Half- Way House," and rested man and beast. 

A six-mile climb made this delightful place 
Recall oasis of the desert east; 



34 SUNNY NOOKS, 

XIII. 

For while the autumn's whithered plain below 
Bore nothing pleasing to the weary eye, 

Here charming, winsome June was all aglow, 
'Mid fruits and flowers 'neath radiant sky. 

XIV. 

A feast of berries fresh from creeping vines, 
Gladdened palates of our pilgrim crew, 

While mountain air, like stimulating wines. 
Did all our flagging energies renew. 

XV. 

So we resumed at length our onward march. 
Feeling fresher, each step, the mountain breeze, 

As higher up we climbed to'rd spanning arch. 

O'er rocks and blackened trunks of prostrate trees, 

XVI. 

Until at length the ' ' timber line ' ' was passed. 
When all around lay open to the view. 

Though sun was bright, and sky of normal cast, 
A piercing wind from ice-clad summits blew, 

XVII. 

That pinched like nipping breeze of winter day. 

And now did snow and rocks and ice abound. 
And through and over all we picked our way, 

' Mid brilliant feasts of vision all-profound. 




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SUNNY NOOKS. 37 



XVIII. 



At last the mountain-top, and Oh, how grand ! 

How, without conscious impulse, senses start ! 
How we feel, gazing o'er this wonderland. 

As ne'er before, the beat of nature's heart ! 

XIX. 

What sights of splendor greet the searching eye ! 

What heights, what depths, what wondrous sweep 
of vision ! 
How far away, where earth embraces sky ! 

How mock our pride, these scenes, with cool irrision ! 

XX. 

The snowy range lay off toward the west. 

While in the east reclined the scorching plain. 

Like placid sea, with billows all at rest; 

And far adown the south, that graceful twain, 

XXI. 

The Spanish Peaks, an hundred miles away, 
(Rapturous vision,) basked in dreamy haze; 

While northward lay the far-famed Long and Gray, 
That hold the feasting eye in transfixed gaze. 

XXII. 

The latter, mighty "dome of continent," 
Distinctly cut against the northern sky, 



38 SUNNY NOOKS. 

Its shining crown with cloud and azure blent, 
Its proud and snowy mantle reared on high, 

XXIII. 

Still haunts the eye and lingers with the soul. 

How grand the intervening mountains, too, 
Along whose shattered crests the tempests roll, 

Or in whose sylvan glens the fairies woo. 

XXIV. 

Beneath us, hanging o'er a narrow valley, 
A storm has gathered, and in vengeful wrath 

Its thunders echo, volley after volley. 

While rivers, freshly m^ade, follow in its path. 

XXV. 

How grandly strange, — how vision-like it seems, 
This mountain storm, as viewed from towering height, 

For in its midst the restless lightning gleams. 
While on its crest the sun imprints its light. 

XXVI. 

And now a glimpse of spanning bow, — promise old, 
Uniting cloud to rock with graceful band 

Of green and purple, blue and wine and gold, — 
Fabric of the mists, wrought by fairy hand. 

XXVII. 

But if the present over-awes the brain — 
If this unequaled scene, now in repose, 




GRAY'S PEAK — "The Dome of the Continent." 



SUNNY NOOKS. 41 

This view-environed scope of God's domain, 
Thrown into being, when, God only knows, — 

XXVIII. 

If these rare creatures of convulsive birth, 

Strike dumb in spell-bound awe the human tongue, 

What must that awful day have been, when earth 
Was, by clouds of smoke and ashes o'erhung, — 

XXIX. 

The blackened heavens glaring here and there 

From glowing fires through yawning chasms gleam- 
ing, 

The thunderous sounds rending stifling air, 

And burning rivers down the mountain streaming, — 

XXX. 

What must that awful hour have been, indeed. 
When darkness reigned supreme at mid of day. 

And long-pent wrath of earth at last was freed. 
In scenes no tongue, no pen can e'er portray ! 

XXXI. 

But the cataclysm of fire at last extinct. 

The heaving earth, like mighty monster dying. 

Quivered, groaned, each throb now less distinct. 
Until at last the wrath once all-defying, 



42 SUNNY NOOKS. 

XXXII. 

Exhausted, died away to pulseless rest, 
Leaving blent in one harmonious whole, 

The perfect earth, by its creator blessed 

With beauty such as e'er makes glad the soul. 

XXXIII. 

Down, down, the eye like avalanche descends, 
Or off where worlds of grandeur multiply, 

Or o'er the plain, where silver cloud impends, 
Or westward, far, where mountains meet the sky. 

XXXIV. 

Majestic scenes of wonder blend below. 
And yonder live inviting groves of green; 

Here air so rare, — hereon eternal snow. 

While * ' Distance lends enchantment to the scene. ' * 

XXXV. 

The lights and shadows of a thousand hues 

Here form, beneath the sun's entrancing beams, 

The rarest and fairest of earthly views. 

The dearest and sweetest of earthly dreams. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 43 



GEMS OF THE CASCADE RANGE. 

CROSSING the great Columbia river from the 
north, and proceeding eastward toward the 
city of Portland, Oregon, one beholds some of the 
grandest mountain peaks that grace the continent. 
To the north-east many miles, in the Cascade range, 
Mount St. Helens looms high above all its surround- 
ings. Further south is Mount Adams; to the south 
of that still, though sixty to eighty miles distant from 
point of first view, is Mount Hood, the most symmet- 
rical and graceful of all the mountain peaks. All these 
prominent features of the range may be seen at one 
glance. Through the eye these mountains describe 
themselves to the soul, but they are not to be described 
by one of God's creatures to another. They rise in 
their majesty, not only above their fellow-sentinels, 
but above the clouds, grand and imposing. In fact, 
they are, themselves, easily mistaken for clouds at 
first glance. For thousands of feet below their sum- 
mits is the snow of centuries, gleaming grandly in the 
mellow light of an autum sun. The range in which 
they are severally located is scarcely visible, rendering 
more imposing, more sublime and awe-inspiring 
the famous mountains themselves. The eye never 



44 - SUNNY NOOKS. 

wearies of their beauty, nor the soul of their enchant- 
ment; neither will the corrosive tooth of time ever ef- 
face the scene from memory. 



SUNA V NOOKS. 45 



THE OLD-TIME TOWN, 

ALONG the east a range of grassy hills; 
Along the west a river grown from rills, 
And west of that a forest deep and wide; 
Along the north two valleys greet the eye, 
With intervening bluffs and groves hard by, 
While on the south, and near, low hills abide. 

Within such bounds — such circumscriptive lines, 
May be of many towns e'en more than signs; 

Yet there's but one whose panoramic view 
Lives in mem'ry and strides athwart the mind; 
Just one old town will my vision find. 

And, as, in years long gone, rebuild anew. 

The first school-house, where cranky Dobbins taught- 
Where youthful minds in constant terror wrought, 

I see, to even pictures on the door. 
I catch as yet, the same old sing-song tones 
Of spelling class on summer afternoons, 

And hear the plaint of Dobbins o' er and o' er. 

I glance from "print-shop " window to the skies, 
That charm the longing soul — rejoice the eyes, 



46 SUNNY NOOKS. 

And fain would bid imprisonment adieu; 
I hear lad to paterfamilies say : 
* '■ Pa, do you think the trout would bite to-day ? ' ' 

And, "son, if you're at work they won't bite you." 

As in the past, of balmy autumn nights, 
I see, like stalwart army, scaling heights, 

The long devouring line of prairie fire; 
And through the day I trace athwart the sky. 
The Indian summer sun in crimson dye. 

As on it speeds through space in daily gire. 

I hear the morning bell that broke repose, 
(Rung loud and long by he of pondrous nose, ) 

Call the natives in solemn, lengthened peals; 
I see, at sunny eve, come o'er the hill, 
The daily coach, and hear, when else is still, 

A mile away, the music of its wheels. 

I see the smiling face — the hopeful eye. 
The sprightly, manly tread of passers-by, 

Who bore the burdens of that early day. 
With prospects born to banish every frown, 
They who stamped character upon the town, 

And left, of their light, an e'erlasting ray. 

Like a zephyr, that from the southland blows. 
Or like the shower that freshened every rose. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 47 

Their kindly impress shown on all about. 
Now few remain unclaimed by Father Time; 
Vanished the happy years that blessed their prime. 

Bear well the names, old town, to thee devout. 

The grassy carpet 'long the winding stream, 
(An ever-pleasing, ever-present dream;) 

The mossy bank, the rugged, rocky shore; 
The blades of grass, jeweled with sparkling dew; 
The wooded slopes where anemones grew, 

I see as in the happy days of yore. 



48 SUNNY NOOKS. 



A NORTH AMERICAN AUTUMN. 

WHERE, in all the wide world, does Nature 
treat mankind to a more lovely season than 
an American Autumn ? The forests have borne their 
rich fruits — have worked out their yearly task, like a 
lifetime, beginning with the tender buds of spring, and 
closing with the golden autumnal hues. There is a 
volume of sweet thought in the lesson. We watch 
the generations of flowers and leaves as God watches 
the generations of His own noblest work. There is 
something poetic and sublime in the passing of the 
year; and the seasons furnish such a striking similar- 
ity to life that their impressions go deeply into the 
simplest hearts. First the tender buds, then the hand- 
somely developed leaves, blades and flowers; then the 
ripe gilded age, and the fall to dust. 'Tis but the 
history of man simplified; and the Autumn of no land 
under the sun can surpass that of North America with 
its story of life thus told in parable. 



SUNN Y NOOKS. 49 



THE ROSE. 

NO other flower of poetry or of prose, 
No other flower, of which the wisest knows, 
Whether idol of cur own, or other race. 
Compares in fragrance, in elegance or grace. 
With that rarest of all flowery gifts, the rose, 
No matter what the other, or where it grows. 



50 SUNNY NOOKS. 



THE BENEFITS OF ILL-FORTUNE. 

TROUBLES deep and sorrows many, 
Assailing us on fleetest wing, 
Are, my friend, the anaesthetics, 

That rob grim death of half its sting. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 51 



CHRISTMAS MORN. 

GRAND the rays of morning gray, 
Sweet the merry Christmas chime; 
Welcome, cherished, sacred day, 
Mile-post by the road of time. 



52 SUNNY NOOKS. 



PIONEER DAYS. 



I. 



A DOWN the years, now hid in dust, 
There dwells a scene, though touched with 
rust. 
That seems a dream — a mystery, 
And yet it all is history. 

II. 

Not only back to childhood hours 
Does mind revert with all its powers, 
But back to state's incipient time 
When Nature, wild, was in her prime. 

III. 

Ah, who of those who saw this land. 
Ere touched by civilizing hand, 
Does not recall with pleasure great 
That now almost forgotten state ? 

IV. 

No furrow marred the virgin plain, 
Nor lawn, nor field, nor golden grain 
Supplanted rose or lily fair 
Whose incense floated on the air. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 53 



V. 



No bridge to span the rippling stream, 
No school, no church, no pas'tral theme, 
No court, no law, no judge, no bar, — 
For conscience was the ruling czar. 

VI. 

How sweet to soul, how dear to heart, 
The humble home, so bare of art. 
Where buoyant hope assuaged the pain. 
That grew from hunger, snow or rain. 

VII. 

Confiding was the pioneer. 

With visions grand and conscience clear; 

There ne'er was a doubting Thomas, — 

All the world was full of promise. 

VIII. 

How bright his lot, how sweet his food. 
How few his cares o'er which to brood; 
The storm no terror for him spoke. 
The wilds no passion did provoke. 

IX. 

Oh, hope, thou rainbow of the hour, 
What stimulant — what mighty power 
Didst thou impart to pioneer 
To change his sorrow into cheer ? 



54 SUNNY NOOKS. 

X. 

How bright the sun shown o'er the hills, 
How sparkling and how sweet the rills, 
That form a thousand springs did flow, 
Whose places now no one shall know. 

XI. 

The river and the winding trail. 
The purple hill and silent vale, 
The deep blue sky that o'er us bent, 
The distant cliff that echoes sent, 

XII. 

All hold their place in mem'ry dear, 
And come with greetings year by year, 
Their old acquaintance to renew, 
And dearer grow with each review. 

XIII. 

But now the eye whose piercing sight 
Traced the eagle in its flight, 
Or red man through the copse or sedge, 
Has lost its fire — is dim with age. 

XIV. 

And, with life's long journey finished, 
Hath many a spirit vanished 
Far beyond the mystic river, 
To the land of leal forever. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 55 



CHILDHOOD. 

DESTROY all earn'd in battle with the world; 
Strike down the flag of hope, long since unfurl' d, 
And strew with cruel thorns the future way; 
But leave the golden anchor of the past, 
Where it, in days of happy youth was cast, 
And let it there in peace remain for aye. 



56 SUNNY NOOKS. 



A TALE OF UNFORTUNATE RUSTIC LOVE. 

DOWN in a vale where a limpid brooklet patters 
on the worn pebbles; where cooling shades 
were photographed on the sweet breath of waning 
summer; where the rich, ripe fruits hung in crimson 
clusters; where the wild gazelle beat its silvery hoofs 
on the rocks of its native haunts; where dwelt the 
queen of the gold-tinted leaves of autumn, instilling 
her sweet inspirations into the souls of gentle lovers, 

— there it was that John B met Betsy K . It 

was in the midst of a rich harvest, when the gilded 
billows rolled over a sea of golden grain. The sum- 
mer sun had descended to its ocean home, leaving its 
train of rich blush to ripen into twilight, while the 
nymphs of the mountains, forests and meadows sang 
sweet lullabys in tlie hearts of John and Betsy. Day 
by day they crushed the golden stubble beneath their 
feet, tying the rich cereal into sheaves of beautiful 
symmetry at three dollars per day. Sweet were the 
sunny hours, and light the toil. Bright were the 
spasms of bliss that were radiated to them from the 
genial future. Hearts were full and responsive; the 
hours were golden; the sunshine mellow and Hquid; 
the ' ' bobwhite ' ' sang his harvest song from the cooling 



SUNNY NOOKS. 57 

shades of a neighboring rail. . . . But there 
came an episode unfortunate and unspeakable — a 
climax in the history of two lives, hitherto the abiding 
places of innocence, that turned the cup of bliss into 
bitterness, and gave mournful emphasis to human 
frailty. 

The panorama of the future suddenly became a 
scene of desolation. 

A winter of disappointment succeeded the summer 
of incomparable delight. 

The sylvan song was hushed forever. 

The forest home of the nymphs became the abiding 
place of owls, bats and ghosts. 

The fruits had fallen, 

The flowers had withered. 

The gazelle had gone ' ' over the divide, ' ' and 

The dream of future happiness had become a 
nightmare of blasted hopes. 

Ah,— 

' ' Pleasures are like poppies spread, 
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed, 
Or like the snow-flake on the river, 
A moment white, then gone forever." 



58 SUNNY NOOKS. 



THE HUMMING-BIRD. 

SWIFTLY as an arrow's flight, 
Sped a bird of plumage gay, 
On his journey 'mid the flowers. 
In the hght of sunny hours, 
Choosing from the hues so bright 
Honied repast of the day. 

How he pois'd, wings aquiver; 
How enraptur'd did he seem, 
On his journey 'mid the flow'rs, 
In the light of sunny hours. 
By the groves, along the river, 

Through the glow of flowery sheen. 

Where is the bird, light-hearted ? 
Ah, his summer soon was spent, — 
Gone from journey 'mid the flow'rs, 
And the light of sunny hours; — 
Like a shadow he departed — 
Like a vision, came and went. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 59 



"OLD SHADY." 

(a mammoth old elm.) 

OLD Shady, grand and noble tree, 
Wouldst thou could speak in words of truth, 
Or paint the sights that thou didst see 
In all the ages since thy youth. 

How startled would the people be 

To hear repeated as of yore, 
The Indian legend from the sea 

Of Columbus' landing on our shore; 

Or hear the story as it broke 

On wandering dwellers of this glen. 

Of Raleigh' s men at Roanoke, 
Or landing of the Puritan; 

Or hear the hissing words that fell. 

From savage lips beneath thy crown, 

Of bloody fields, from Bunker Hill 
Till English rule was overthrown. 

Away beyond all this, indeed. 

In ages gray, — in years long gone, 

Thy sheltering boughs were roof and shade 
For generations now unknown. 



6o SUNNY NOOKS. 

The secrets of five-hundred years, 

Of love, of wars, of flood, of flame. 

Of joys, — of unavailing tears. 

Are thine — even though ne'er to name. 

Where echoes of demonic yell, 

Once swept along the beetling hill. 

Thou hear'st now the grand school-bell. 
Or locomotive whistle shrill. 

And peaceful scenes surround thee now, 
In striking contrast with the past. 

When wild beasts climbed from bough to bough, 
Or sought thy refuge from the blast. 

Long may thy stately shadows fall, 

Beneath a calm, resplendent sky; — 

Long delayed may be the call 

That shall command thy splendors die. 



SUNVN NOOKS. 6t 



AN OCTOBER MORNING. 

What royal pomp invests these golden days, 
When the oblique and unaweary sun, 
His bright ecliptic journey almost run, 

Kisses the leaning globe with tempered rays ! 

What pageantries of color blush or blaze 
Along the woods, of crimson, gold, or dun. 
When sunset strikes the mountains, one by one. 

And kindles them into splendor as we gaze ! 

— Henry S. Cornwell. 

A CRISP October morning is a poem more com- 
plete than pen of laureate e'er knew. The 
bright sun, the fresh air, the spicy breath of Indian 
summer, the soft horizon tinged with blue, the glow 
of the grand hills that surround our valley home like 
the encircling halo of saintly head, the carpet of brown 
leaves, the glistening waters that thread their way 
along the emerald banks of charming valleys, the 
piping note of lingering robin, or the spiritual "chera- 
way ' ' of the matchless bluebird, the gentle dropping 
of seared leaves to mother earth, the sparkling web 
that spans from bough to bough and gleams and 
glistens like fairy telegraph, the blending of sweet 
sounds even faint and distant, — all lend their charms 



62 SUNNY NOOKS. 

to the rounding out of ideal grandeur, and paint upon 
the heart a scene never to be equalled except by- 
Nature herself, and never to be described by tongue 
or pen. 



SUNNY NOOICS, 63 



JACK'S BOYHOOD RECOLLECTIONS. 



I. 



WHEN length' ning shadows to'rd the Orient fall; 
When glory of the day at ev'ning dies, 
And mantle of the night, like gathering pall, 

O'ercasts with sombre hue the bending skies; 



II. 



When vesper song of thrush, that woods did fill, 
Evanishes with cadence of the day. 

And all earth's melodious sounds are still, 
And gorgeous fire of west is burned away. 



III. 



What troops of old and half-forgotten scenes 
Are ushered in, each one to play its part — 

Employing each its own especial means 
To repossess the temple of the heart. 



IV. 



These hallowed scenes of melancholy eve 
Renew like showers the fallow fields of mind. 

And ere the dusk-born inspirations leave. 
The world of yore is in the heart enshrined. 



64 SUNNY NOOKS. 

V. 

Far back in the gray mists of early youth, 
When the gilded, dreamy romance of life 

Was so unlike the real, homely truth 
Of trial and tribulation and strife, 

VI. 

I loved with ardent, youthful glee to roam 
Along a road where forest monarchs grew. 

To a plain, honest, happy woodland home, 
Humble, retired, but pure as one e'er knew. 

VII. 
In country wild and fresh from Nature's hand, 

All homes were plain — no architect designed. 
Or pondered over gorgeous scale, or planned 

Mansions in those days. He ne'er thus divined. 

VIII. 

The scenes are fresh as if but painted new — 

The creek that rose and sank in strange remission; 

The ** sugar-bush " that up the valley grew; 
The ** bear-den " (less fact than superstition;) 

IX. 

The field of corn along the fitful creek ; 

Or the imagined gods of grove and glen, 
(Such as would have inspired an ancient Greek;) 

The ** coal-pit," where the dusky, sooty men, 



SUNNY NOOKS. 65 

X. 

Besmote the tree and carbonized its wood; 

The fresh incense of burning birch or ehn, 
Enframing mind in strange but happy mood ! — 

Was not this an ideal poet's realm? 

XI. 

Oft do the happy scenes return to mind, 

Of how at eve about the open fire, 
There came from lips, in humor good and kind, 

A story or a lesson from the sire, 

XII. 

That left its impress deep on childish heart. 
For what he told I never thought to doubt, 

So true was all he said, and free from art. 
And pure the things he ever talked about. 

XIII. 

And what mem'ries of the joyous spring-time 
Throng the busy mind in retrospection, 

When icy fetters of our nothern clime 
Gave aback the waxing sun's reflection, 

XIV. 

As yielding snows were marshalled for the sea, 
First as creeks, then as rivers, then as floods! 

How sweet the note of lark or chickadee. 

Or drumming of the partridge in the woods ! 



66 SUNNY NO OKS. 

XV. 

To all we see there is a grander part. 

Vision ' s mere effect of deific force ; 
An instinct ever guides the human heart, 

Descended from, and part of Nature's source. 

XVI. 

We follow creeds, and to them live devout, 
And worship Him whom all our senses gave; 

Yet, with all our faith there e' er lingers doubt. 
As to the great unknown beyond the grave. 

XVII. 

Though, whate'er it be, something is beyond — 

A faithful magnet to the human soul. 
Discard the creeds and sever every bond 

By which the christian hopes to reach his goal, 

XVIII. 

And still a spirit whispers in the mind: 

* ' This all by chance could not have come to men. 
These better traits we in our fellows find 

All have their source beyond frail human ken. ' ' 

XIX. 

The earth, with all its grandeur and its fame, 
Its rivers, oceans, mountains, valleys, plains, — 

All its natural beauties worth the name 

O'er which some wondrous gen' us ever reigns, 



SUNNY NOOKS. 67 



XX. 



Scarcely came from *' Natural Selection." 
There must have been a purpose and a plan, 

These implying knowledge, will, direction; — 
A power like man's, superior to man. 



XXI. 



But to my dissertation — early days. 

Divines will prune the theologic tree. 
While I, plebeian like, sing lighter lays. 

Ne'er urging doubt of holy One or Three. 



XXII. 



Long years have flown — five-thirty ; yes, and more, 
Since the grim fates permitted me to roam. 

And in my youthful ventures to explore 

The wilds of forest 'round that woodland home. 



XXIII. 



How I recall with pleasure, — profit, too, 

The inspirations of that long ago. 
Of field, or open fire whose column blue, 

Crept up in graceful wreaths from wood aglow. 



XXIV. 



But boon companions of my youth who roam 
In far distant lands (if perchance on earth), 

Long, long years ago ceased to name as home 
That spot, than which none had a higher worth. 



68 SUNNY NOOKS. 

XXV. 

Yes ; born anew, are days of long ago, 

When name of ' * Home ' ' re-echoes through the 
heart ; 
Anew the hearth-stone idols come and go, 

And, in memory's scenes, replay a part. 

XXVI. 

Ah, when low the distant thunder muttered ; 

When loud and long it roared 'mid fiery flame ; 
When still fiercer threats the storm-king uttered, 

As tempest through the bending forest came, 

XXVII. 

How blest to heart that hallow' d refuge seemed — 
That home of youth — that dearest spot of earth ; 

(Dear, dear, when, after storm, the sunlight streamed 
At morn, and fresh attuned was nature's mirth). 

XXVIII. 

Of all that past, the world has naught to give. 

Even fond echoes of the day depart. 
Alone on the walls of memory live 

The scenes that erstwhile gladdened boyish heart. 

XXIX. 

Fleet-winged time, that points man's destination, 
Has made prostrate the home and forest fair — 

Has changed scenes of life to desolation, 
And left its mark of chaos everywhere. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 69 



XXX. 



My benefactor and his loyal wife 

Have long ere this explor'd that unknown state 
Beyond the pale of fickle human life. 

In grassy mounds the living read their fate. 



XXXI. 



A tear unbidden falls o'er mortal clay ; 

I sigh for hours that in the dead past dwell, 
And to the scenes of early happy day 

I speak a faithful soul's profound farewell. 



70 SUNNY NOOKS. 



A FEATHERED MINSTREL. 

OF all the birds of all the climes ; 
Of all the birds of songs or rhymes, 
What one think you, could best lay claim. 
To right of most enduring fame ? 
When leaden clouds o' ercast the sky. 
And north winds through the bleak trees sigh ; 
When ice-bound rivers silent run. 
And gleam and glare in winter's sun ; 
When clouds reveal no friendly rifts, 
And snow is piled in monster drifts, 
And frosts sweep down from frigid zone, 
On dismal winds that wail and moan, 
What chipper, dapper little bird, 
With note as sweet as e'er was heard, 
Abides in this far northern clime, 
To make less drear our winter- time ? 
Who's the merry, little fellow, 
That with note so sweet and mellow, 
Teaches patience and endurance — 
Gives of better day assurance ? 
What a tiny clump of feathers, 
To resist our Northern weathers ! 



SUNNY NOOKS. 71 

A body not so large as thumb, 
Many a day without a crumb ! 
Now, how survives he all the storms 
And what his life-blood daily warms ? 
And say you not he wins all praise, 
For his companionship and lays ? 
His perch a limb or withered weed ; 
His eye as bright as tiny bead. 
And jaunty cap as black as jet. 
On his head like a crown is set — 
Have you heard his whistle mellow ? 
Can you guess the little fellow, 
That, for a seed, from thorn or thistle, 
Returns his thanks in song or whistle ? 
Yes ; from tree with bony fingers. 
While grim old Boreas lingers. 

We catch the wafted ' ' de, de, de " ; 

And listen to his note of glee. 
Sometimes only half repeated — 
Sweet a sound as e'er ear greeted — 
And then mayhap trilled o'er and o'er. 
As if he, too, did song adore. 
Titmouse ministrel, dapper fellow. 
Long live thou, of whistle mellow. 



72 SUNNY NOOKS. 



VALE, WARD McALLISTER. 



w 



"ARD caught la grip, 
And took a trip, 
When the frail bond of life was sundered, 
Out through death's door, 
To golden shore, 
Afar removed from the 400. 

A future gust 

Will catch his dust. 
And whip it through the welkin mellow, 

Then 'twill mix 

With Tom's or Dick's, 
And who'll know Ward from 'tother fellow. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 73 



*' CLOUD EFFECTS." 

ORE dense than haze, the clouds, for days, 
Obscured the arch of blue ; 
No heav'nly light, at morn or night, 
Man's spirit to renew. 



M' 



In road and street, there snow and sleet, 

In mixture did abound. 
While autumn shrouds (the leaden clouds), 

On all the fair land frowned. 

Man's spirits fell. This gloomy spell 
Overwhelmed him with its pall ; 

For all was drear ; he spoke with fear, 
And glum he was withal. 

His worldly hope, now sand-like rope, 
From idol changed to beast. 

And in the gloom he read his doom, 
Or thought he did at least. 

At length in sky the sun rose high, 
And poured its flood of light 

Of untold worth across the earth, 
To set his spirits right. 



74 SUNNY NOOKS. 

With brighter dawn the blues were gone, 

' * Old Sol ' ' the gloom did sever ; 
Said he : "I pray, the god of day, 
May henceforth shine forever." 



SUNNY NO0KS. 75 



A CLAIM-SHANTY VISION. 

A bachelor's dream of CHRISTMAS. 

THE night before Christmas a bach' lor was dream- 
ing, 
Of turkeys, and puddings, and coffee all steaming — 
Of napkins and silverware, and dishes so white, 
That he lived forty lives while a-dreaming that night 

There were mince-pies and puddings, all scattered 

about, 
And the good things he looked at nigh gave him the 

gout. 
* ' Clear out with tin dishes, ' ' my lone bachelor said, 
' ' Avaunt, my cookery, and especially my bread. ' ' 

A monstrous great cake, like a snow-covered mountain, 
('Mong a lot of small cakes he'd spent an hour 

countin'), 
Made his soul leap with joy — his mouth fairly water ; 
He'd not seen the like since he'd lived as a cotter. 

Delightful enchantment in life's fitful drama, 
Was this heav'n-born picture — this grand panorama, 
And like a king on his throne the bachelor sat, 
With his body, and even his soul getting fat. 



76 SCrNNV NOOKS. 

This lonely man lived by himself in a shanty, 

On meals poorly cooked and in quantity scanty ; 

So his eyes, at this sight, nigh cleaved from their 

sockets, 
As he sat slipping doughnuts and things in his pockets. 

But dreams are air-castles — disappointment the end. 
For dreams about paradise, of hades portend ; 
Like the Dead Sea apple, whose deception we know, 
They crumble at touch, being made just for show. 

Now the smile of this claim-shanty man went abroad, 
When he found his late vision a snare and a fraud, 
And that he must turn out 'mid his tinware and dust. 
And get for his meal what he'd dreamed of and 
'' cussed." 



SUNNY NOOKS. 77 



EVENING BY THE RIVER. 



w 



HILE on em' raid bank reclining, 
As the sun was fast declining, 
And shadows were distilling evening dews, 
The bright, enchanting fire of west, 
Painted on the river's breast, 
Scenes of rarest and of fairest liquid hues. 

O'er shallows there did quiver, 
That rare painting on the river. 

Until one by one the hills along the west. 
Cast their long and lonely shadows. 
O'er the mountains and the meadows, 

And the waters that had rippled were at rest. 

Now the mountains lost their color. 
For the light was growing duller. 

Leaving all the valleys wrapped in shadows grim; 
And the birds their songs ceased singing, 
For in east the night was springing. 

And the hazel of the sky was growing dim. 

Then from out his grassy thicket. 
Broke in solemn song a cricket. 



78 SUNNY NOOKS. 

And from lowland o'er the river, to'rd the hill — 
First in half-notes, low and broken, 
(Which, of more, was merely token,) 

Came the melancholy song of whip-poor-will. 

Now like lithe and blythesome maiden, 

Sprang a zephyr, freshly laden 
With the fragrance from the woodland o' er the stream, 

Of the valley-lily new-born. 

And the wild phlox, and the hawthorn, 
That through leaves aquiver caught fair Luna's gleam. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 79 



BROKEN IDOLS. 

HOW all the world, in youth, on faith we took, 
Ere we learned to read life's open book, 
And ply the crucial, philosophic test! 
How fell, with knowledge of Dame Nature's laws, 
That cherished faith we had in Santa Glaus, 
And scores of such that served our fancy best. 

We had our idols — gods, like ancient Greeks, 

But ours were men (and must have been strange freaks, 

For none we find in this maturer time). 
We had implicit faith in fairy-tales, — 
In golden ships and silken sails, 

And thought all mythologic race sublime. 

Those idols — heroes, stories of our youth. 
That fell with the analysis of truth, 

In heaps of ruins 'neath the lichens lie. 
Though they the loyal heart can ne'er forget; 
Though the soul recalls them with regret. 

They sleep. Like mortals, they were born to die. 



8o SUNNY NOOKS. 



THE CRITIC. 

MERIT does not always win just praise. 
A man must fight his way to fame, 
Since prejudice forever plays 
A shifting and a spiteful game. 

Here is a case in point, my friend: 
A connoisseur of note, one day, 

Who had an idle hour to spend, 
Was led by auctioneer astray. 

And ere he knew it, found himself 

In place where works of art were sold. 

Of which some long were on the shelf 
On others the paint was hardly cold. 

One, a genius must have painted. 

The eye of every soul it caught. 
The connoisseur even squinted, 

And almost praised it ere he thought. 

The scene was one of fruits and flowers 
At which the birds had picked in vain: 

And human compliments, in showers. 
Upon the masterpiece did rain. 



SUNNY NOOKS, 8i 

The critic seized a printed list, 

And ran his finger fast and faster; 
And how he posed and clenched his fist 

When a Briton proved the master! 

* ' These British fellows have no taste. 

A Harp Alley sign-post dauber 
Would not have made so rash a waste 

Of fine canvas as this lubber. 

"What! Grapes? Those monstrosities, grapes? 

Grapes, painted by a British son ? 
The cool suggestion fairly rapes - 

My sense of art! 'Twas never done. 

" There's no perspective — no foreground, — 

Neither character nor keeping; 
In all the effort can be found 

Not one fault, but faults are sweeping. 

"And that, the dog, would call a fly, — 

That clot of color a fly, I say. 
He " a wave of the hand swept by; 

The fly arose and sailed away. 



82 SUNNY NOOKS. 



PULPIT ROCK. 



AS if all elements to mock, 
That tow' ring pillar, Pulpit Rock, 
Stands like the Sphinx of Egypt, old, 
Below the bridge, aloft and bold. 
Just up the valley, near the bend. 
Where creek and river meet and blend. 

Stolid sphinx, old grizzled sphinx ! 

I wonder if he ever thinks ! 

I wonder if a key there is 

That would unlock that heart of his — 

Would break the geologic seal, 

And secrets of his life reveal ? 

As to'rd the west to-day he peers, 

So has he look'd a thousand years ; 

When Christ proclaimed " Good Will to Men." 

As now he looks, so looked he then. 

He gazed the same in ages gone. 

When human life was in its dawn. 




r 



^7^ 










O 



-J 



SUNNY NOOKS. 83 

We all revere this old land-mark — 
This idol older than the ark, — 
This emblem of eternal rest, 
E'er gazing out toward the west 
As if the setting sun to greet. 
Away where sky and mountains meet. 



84 SUNNY NOOKS. 



THE PARSON AND THE STORM. 

A PARSON, all devotion, 
Attended by his spouse. 
Set out across the ocean, 
With many pious vows. 

The sea they sailed was placid. 
The weather clear and warm, 

And waters salso-acid. 
Gave no sign of storm. 

Cerulean tints above, 

The ocean calm below ; 
Journey was a work of love, 

'Till wind began to blow. 

A cloud rose in the distance, 

Not larger than a hand, 
But ship's well-known resistance, 

Made sea as safe as land. 

So the captain said, at least, 
And the parson didn't doubt, 

'Till his fear from cloud in east. 
Began to crowd hope out. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 85 

The cloud had grown immensely, 

The billows rolled about, 
The wind now blew intensely, 

And crew began to shout. 

High twelve grew black as midnight, 

The thunders shook the sea. 
And lightning flashes, bhnding bright. 

Came thick as thick could be. 

The clouds dragged on the ocean, 

The waves ran o'er the deck, 
While ship, with frightful motion. 

Seemed sure to end in wreck. 

Up, the fickle bow would ride. 

When all would rush astern ; 
Then o'er on her starboard side. 

Then back again she'd turn. 

Storm the impulse quickens : 

The parson thought of land — 
Of yellow-legged chickens. 

And skies serene and bland. 

Ghastly faces on the ship, 

Of hearts as brave as steel. 
Told, without a word from lip, 

How passengers did feel. 



86 SUNNY NOOKS, 

The parson first engaged in prayer, 
Then called the captain to, 

An' at the officer did stare. 
And ask him what to do. 

" Meet danger as a Christian dare," 
The captain to him said ; 

" Fear not while the sailors swear ;" 
Then the captain fled. 

Parson, more than spouse, was sick. 
For she was up and out ; 

Hence her duty was to quick 
Report of things without. 

Still the ship in anger rolled, 
And still the sea ran high ; 

So, parson, the storm more bold. 
Now fearing all must die, 

Called out as one despairing : 

' * Mother, hearest thou a word ? ' ' 
* ' Yes, sailors still are swearing ! ' ' 

The parson : ' ' Thank the Lord ! ' * 



SUNNY NOOKS. 87 



THANKSGIVING. 

THERE'S joy around the festal-board, 
Though skies be grim and murky ; 
For joy escapes from heart where stored, 
When senses sniff the turkey. 



88 SUNNY NOOKS. 



THE OLD AND THE NEW.— HAIL AND 
FAREWELL. 



H 



AIL, all hail, New Year, full-fledged, vivacious, 
Borne on pinions strong, with signs auspicious ; 



Hail to thy promise ! Welcome, bursting light ! 
A world salutes thee, and thy omens bright. 

Many, great, are thy stories yet untold ; 
Bitter the griefs thy days are to unfold ; 

Yet, who would turn thee back to scenes agone, 
To fight again the battles lost or won ? 

None. On, on, though years our bodies weaken ; 
" On," our watch-word is, our faith unshaken ! 

O, New Year's sun, man's first, last, greatest friend, 
Miracle of light, whose glories ne'er end. 

Why may we not, like Montezuma, fall. 

On humble knee, and give thee praise for all ? 

Now the Old ! Down the sky on New Year's eve, 
Rolled the vast sun, taking its final leave 



SUNNY NOOKS. 89 

Of time that is, and time that is to be, 
To join the ages of eternity. 

There shot athwart the winter's sky at night, 
The last bright shaft of blazing, fiery light, 

Ere midnight hour should spread its gloom o'er earth. 
And change the Old Year's death to New Year's 
birth. 

Thy deeds, Old Year, are sealed, thy record made ; 
Thy precious pleasures fly, thy sorrows fade ; 

Thy merry birds, thy flow'rs, thy golden fields, 
Thy crowns and scepters, warriors, swords and 
shields — 

Thy idols of the humble and the proud, 
Vanish like shadows of a flying cloud. 

Go to thy rest, thou true to ev'ry trust ; 
Go down, as hero, fighting, falls to dust. 

Farewell, farewell, Old Year — a last farewell ! 
Go to thy rest. In peace forever dwell. 

Though dead, all time thy glories do defy ; 
Thy honors and thy fame can never die. 



90 SUNNY NOOKS. 



TO AN APPLE. 

DELICIOUS sphere of fiery red, 
(Thou home delight of winter eve, 
When firm to comfort we are wed. 

And social fabric minds do weave), 

How, in reminiscent mood. 

We trace thy story back to spring — 
Back when the merry robins wooed, 

And sweet their vernal songs did sing ! 

Thou, cousin of the matchless rose, 
(Such in botanic sense, at least). 

Art sure excelled by none that grows. 
For damask flow'r and fireside feast. 

A blushing bride wore in her hair, 
When to the altar she was led. 

Thy sister blossom, sweet and fair, 
But here thou art, an apple red. 

Caressed by sunlight, day by day. 
And moistened by the vesper dew. 

Kissed by gamboling zephyrs gay, 

Or rocked by summer winds that blew, 



SUNNY NOOKS. 91 

Thou grew, the very soul of grace — 
Thou grew, ' ' the apple of the eye, ' ' 

With story written on thy face, 
Of radiant fields and summer sky. 



92 SUNNY NOOKS. 



H 



THE PASSING YEAR. 

ARK to the song, the sylvan call, 
Far in the forest ; lo, ' tis fall ! 



The bells — their music fills the vale — 
Their echoes ringing o'er the dale. 

See the babbling, limpid stream, 
Reflecting back the sun's bright beam ; 

See the smoke far heavenward wending ; 
Hear the songs of Nature blending I 

Celestial, dreamy autumn days, 
Enchanting, balmy liquid haze ; 

Golden leaflets, tinged with gray, 
Falling lifeless to decay ! 

Homeward, southward, birds are winging, 
Heard no more 'till vernal singing ; 

Shorter, darker autumn's growing, — 
Winter comes — alas, 'tis snowing ! 



SUNNY NOOKS. 93 

The sylvan call ere long is fled ; — 
The music — echoes, too, are dead ; 

Crystal ice enshrouds the stream, 
And autumn, past, is like a dream. 



94 SUNNY NOOKS. 



A PRAYER OF THE SOUL. 

MAY some deed done — some word spoken ; 
May here or there a kindly act ; 
May some manly pledge unbroken — 
Some good intent, or wish, or fact, 

Survive the clay of evil man, 

And live above my humble grave, 

When life has run its fitful span. 
And King of Terrors shall enslave 

This breathless, weary, mortal frame. 

Not that I seek that not my own, 
Nor that I crave immortal fame, 

But that, in life, a good seed sown, 

May not in sterile soil have caught, 

To perish, leaving scarce a stain. 
And all my aims thus come to naught, 

And all my hopes thus fall in vain. 

May one imperishable seed, 

Implanted in the living heart. 
Grow forth to grace some simple deed, 

When life and I at last shall part, — 



SUNNY NOOKS. 95 

A sun-kissed flow'r — a blushing rose, 
That shall from out my mem'ry spring, 

Unheeding even death's repose. 
Undaunted by the Terror King, 

To greet some soul — some faithful friend, 

Along life's mysterious way, 
Whose spirit bore a kindred trend. 

To that of mine. For this I pray. 



96 SUNNY NOOKS. 



"BLOOD." 

THE aristocrat boasts of the blood, 
That meanders along his blue veins, 
Like a deep subterranean flood. 

For it's safer than boasting of brains. 

He forgets that in this modern age, 

Royal heads do not rule the wide earth, 

And that the world does finally gauge 
The ' ' genus homo ' ' at his worth. 

To self a lord, to world a flunkey, 

With blood that's mere serum or whey ; 

His ancestral king was a monkey, 

And his brains are not pure matter gray. 

These mortals of special creation. 

Absorbed in their breeding and shoddy, 

Would find it a rich revelation. 

To catch step with the world's great body. 

They would measure themselves with surprise, 
To behold in the mirror of truth. 

Fools who'd lived to themselves in disguise. 
Since the days of their innocent youth. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 97 

The aristocrat boasts of the blood, 
That meanders along his blue veins, 

Like a deep subterranean flood, 

For it's safer than boasting of brains. 



98 SUNNY NOOKS. 



''DUD," THE GRAVE-STONE PEDDLER. 

OF all the honest ways to get a livin', 
Grave-stone selling's the worst under heaven ; 
For who, like Micawber, can idly "luck it," 
Waiting for some one to ''kick the bucket," 
'Thout wincing under the eye o' his maker, 
While rudely tramping graves in " God's half acre?" 

These men watch the fight and wait the killing, 
For the latter' 11 bring them in a shilling. 

They hear the death-bell's muffled, solemn tone, 
And clap their hands and swear they'll sell a stone. 



Behold they sit, like vultures, on the roost. 

To swoop down from on high, with pinions loosed, 

And if mortal man's been slashed to gashes, 

They'll plant a stone right over his ashes. 

Engraving thereon an image solemn — 

A lamb, angel, or a "broken column," 

To touch the ever- careless passer-by, 

And hint to him how sad it is to die. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 99 

'Tis kind to mark the places of the dead — 
To hoist a blazoned slab at ev'ry head ; 
For this slight debt one man owes another, 
Be he stranger, father, friend or brother. 

Thus far the grave- stone man's of earthly use, 
But with his duty comes there not abuse ? 

But charity entreats me to desist. 

And think of the millions who must exist, 

By some exertion — some means, fair or foul ; 

So why should I reprove with vengeful scowl. 

Or overcast the sky with leaden cloud. 

For * ' Dud, ' ' or others of his grave-stone crowd ? 



100 SUNNY NOOKS. 



WHERE IS THE SUN? 

AN APRIL QUERY. 

WHERE is the sun, the golden sun, 
Whose everlasting, brilliant fires, 
Did paint the steeples and the spires 
And gild the mountains, one by one ? 

Fiery god of Montezume, 

Art thou all burned away in space, 
That never more I see thy face, 

As if thou ne' er saw or knew me ? 

Ah, we mourn and wail together. 
For our hopes begin to languish, 
And our souls cry out in anguish. 

At this horrid, dreary weather. 

The heavens swathed in dismal crape, 
Highways, fields and meadows mirey. 
People vexed, impatient, fiery, 

And all dame nature out of shape. 



SUNNY NO OKS. loi 

Birds are sore with weary waiting ; 

They're robbed of chance to build their nests — 
While anxious hearts within their breasts 

Are longing for the time of mating. 

Where is the sun, the golden sun, 
Whose everlasting, brilliant fires. 
Did paint the steeples and the spires, 

And gild the mountains, one by one ? 



102 SUNNY NOOKS. 



OUR DREAMED MILLENNIUM. 
(read at a grand army entertainment). 

FIVE-TWENTY years ago to-night, 
As war-clouds flecked the winter sky^ 
We slept from the ensanguined fight, 
And dreamed our millennium was nigh. 

Bright signs athwart our vision flashed, 
As hope built high her towering shaft, 

But oft this structure tottered — crashed, — 
To leave its dreamy builder daft. 

And so it ran from first alarm, 

That shocked the land in 'sixty-one, 

When office, factory, shop and farm, 
Each gave its sons to sword and gun. 

But through the frowning mists of strife. 
Came now and then a ray of light. 

That bad us hope the nation's life 

Would never yield to armed foe's mights 



SUNNY NOOKS. 103 

Grant and Sherman, Sheridan, Mead, 
Ord, Hancock, Logan, in command — 

With such as these the way to lead, 

What else could come, but vict'ry grand ? 

And come it did, but not till blood 

Of more than half a million men. 
Drenched southern fields with crimson flood, 

Or thousands died in prison pen. 

Far down on Appomattox field, 

At last that millennium came, 
When Lee was forced at last to yield 

To Grant, of everlasting fame. 

But how these scenes are fading out, 
As twilight fades with waning day ; 

For o'er the fields of charge and rout. 
The trees and tangled vines hold sway. 

Our serried ranks, once flushed and strong. 
Are thinning fast from worldly shocks ; 

In place of youth that swelled the throng. 
Are legion men of silvered locks. 

But '* Onward ! " is the battle cry : 
There is no fate we dare not meet ; 

And her'tage left with our good-bye, 
Will be an honored flag to greet. 



I04 , SUNNY NOOKS. 

We'll leave secession in its grave, 
We'll leave no malice to'rd our foe ; 

We'll leave a land without a slave — 
The Union free from want and woe ; — 

Forgetting not the ''Johnny reb," 
Who oft on bloody fields did lead ; 

Though foe, as battle's tide did ebb, 
He'd prove our friend to-day, in need. 

Then peacef ly bide the fleeting years. 
Forgetting the gleaming line of fire — 

Forgetting home's distress and tears — 
Forgetting hosts arrayed in ire. 

From these we turn to smiling skies — 
To scenes and ties of comradeship, 

Strengthening bond that never dies, 
And catching fresh the onward step. 

Now may the homes and friends you love, 
Have worldly plenty and to spare ; 

May Heaven guide you from above, 
And peace be with you everywhere. 



SUNNY NOOKS. 105 



A STORM'S THEOLOGY. 

THE wild sea rose in angry waves, 
While trembling monarch ship, 
(Firm as ever left the ways), 
Groaned with every dip 

And creaked with every swell. 

From out the wailing storm 
The furious thunders fell, 

While lightnings, omniform, 

Beat the sky with fiery shafts. 

'Twere miles up through the mists. 
Where Jove his scepter wafts, 

And golden light exists. 

If furies all were merged in one. 

And demons all uncaged ; 
If blotted out had been the sun, 

And hell itself engaged. 

The hour could not have had more dread, 

For those in deep distress. 
Like pall, a gloom o'er all was spread, 

As hope of life grew less. 



io6 SUNNY NOOKS. 

Down, down, down in angry deep — 

Down amid liquid walls, 
That higher — still higher leap ; — 

Down, the great ship falls 

'Till o'er masts the waves nigh meet, 

Despair in ev'ry face. 
Now unpraying souls entreat 

The King at throne of grace 

To stay the impending doom — 

To still the angry wave, 
And spare from deep-sea tomb 

The ship, to storm a slave. 

At last on crest of swelling sea. 
The good craft rides again. 

And though from danger all are free. 
And prayers have reached ' ' Amen, ' 

Their helpless state in time of dread, 
As storm-tossed ship they trod. 

Taught them, as Mahomet said, 
" There is no God but God." 



SUNNY NOOKS. 107 



TO A RETURNING SILVER DOLLAR. 

I PAID thee out a year ago, 
A thousand miles away, 
But marked thee so that I should know, 
Thy face another day. 

Through all the crooks and turns of trade, 

That permeate the land, 
Thou, on and on, hast daily strayed, 

Again to reach my hand. 

These features are not quite so plain, 
As those that knew thee then, 

But thou since then art worn by gain 
Of very many men. 

To trace thy story through the year. 

Would form no idle plot ; — 
To go where joy supplanted tear. 

In some meek, lowly cot. 

When in the very nick of time, 
Thy presence broke new light. 

And changed despair to hope sublime. 
And made the hour more bright. 



io8 SUNNY NOOKS. 

Thou' St paid a thousand debts or more, 

And slept in many a purse ; 
Thou' St paid for poison cups by score, 

And doubtless e'en done worse. 

Indeed I scarcely dare suggest, 
Through all the lines of trade. 

In north or south or east or west, 
The purchases thou'st made. 

Thou'st "gone a-slumming," too, no doubt, 

Among the low and frail ; 
Thou'st heard the burly ruffian's shout — 

The lost's despairing wail. 

And in the sanctuary, too, 

Where soul's seek food and rest. 

Thy * ' clink ' ' hath sent a thrill clear through 
The pious preacher's vest. 

Returning friend of other days, 

When shall we meet again ? 
When shall convergent be our ways ? 

Ah, echo answers * ' When ? ' ' 



SC/NNV NOOKS. 109 



TWILIGHT. 



I. 



PROUD herald of approaching night, 
Enchanting ray of fading Hght ; 
Departing gleam of evening's blush, 
Thy mingled beauties sorrows hush. 



II. 



E'er floating like a banner proud, 
Adding tint to every cloud, 
Until the dying fire of day 
Evanishes in robes of gray. 



III. 



Drifting through the western sky, 
Wafting over mountains high, 
Reflecting glow to zenith's height, 
Gilding shadows of the night. 



IV. 



Along the oriental dome, 
In troops the sable shadows roam. 
While far below the mountain's crest 
Sinks the sun in fiery west. 



1 10 SUNNY NOOKS. 

V. 



The cricket's song doth touch the heart, 
As birds cease singing and depart, 
And sky is chang'd from gold to gray, 
And cherish' d picture fades away. 



VI. 



The azure turns to sombre hue, 
As gently falls the silvery dew ; 
And now the broken golden thread. 
Proclaims, alas, the day is dead. 



SUNNY NOOKS. iii 



WANING SUMMER. 

OH, gladsome, joyous summertime, 
Beautious spell, thou season prime, 
Thou soul, thou spirit of the year, 
Thou golden time with mem'ries dear ! 
How we adore thy azure skies ; 
How all thy waning days we prize ; 
How sadly world, with one acclaim, 
Bids fond farewell in Nature's name. 
To joys that Hke a spirit sweet. 
Depart on wings forever fleet. 
Oh, gladsome, joyous summertime. 
Thy flow'rs will soon give way to rime ; 
Ere long the frosts thy charms will claim ; 
Yet frosts can ne'er destroy thy fame, 
Oh, summertime. Oh, spell divine. 
In hearts that worship at thy shrine. 



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